Not All Endings Are Happy
by LonelyJojo
Summary: ONESHOT. The thoughts and memories of a little duck as she floats in her pond. WARNING: End of series spoilers.


**Heya folks. This is my first fan fiction, so bear with me. I, personally, love the Ahiru/Fakir pairing for Princess Tutu. But this is a sort of…reality-check story. NO, it is NOT a happy ending for Ahiru. Quite the opposite. Don't bite me for it please. If you don't like the sort, just don't read it, 'kay? I won't beg for reviews (though they'd be nice), but please don't flame. Like I said – Don't like it, don't read it. So, here goes nothing.**

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The wind blew cold through the nearly leafless trees, a few remaining brown scraps born upon its fingertips. Nearby sat a quaint little pond, edged with dying grass and frost. Upon its glassy surface floated a small golden duck, her tired blue eyes watching the world go by with only faint interest.

The duck's name was Ahiru, though that little tidbit was only known by three others. Once upon a time, she had become a girl, a princess even. Once upon a time, she had lived happily, every movement full of the joy of life. She had made friends, learned to dance, and even tasted the sweet fruit of love. That life had its share of sorrow, and had not been at all easy, but if there was one thing it was, it was short.

Barely had she slipped into her human skin, than it was torn from her, in a horrible turn of events that left no other path for the selfless duck. But even then, she let herself hope, for she had the vows of another to never leave her, and if anyone could bring her back to the world of humans, it was he.

Even she wasn't quite sure what had happened to bring her where she was now.

Now she was alone, in a pond that slowly grew colder with the coming winter. There was no boy sitting on the dock, writing, fishing, or talking to her. There were no townsfolk to throw her some bread at this time of year, no giggling children to watch wistfully. The water was her only companion; the laughing winds her only amusement. It had been a long time since she had watched the shores, waiting patiently for someone who would never arrive. It had been longer since she had actually hoped he would show.

The wind blew her along, and into the reeds at the edge of the pond, and for a moment she thrashed around in their willowy bonds. The fronds broke easily, the leafy stems being as cold as weary as the duck herself, and it wasn't long before she was floating on her own once more. Something that may have once been a smile passed her face as she realized where she was, then like the wind, it was gone.

Here was where she had first seen Mytho, her prince, dancing upon these very waters. Perhaps it had been nothing but a dream, or maybe she had really seen it – She could never quite decide. But regardless of reality, he had danced here, in front of her very eyes. Right here, she had dared to dream, to wish to make that lonely prince smile. To, ultimately, become a girl to do so.

She often found herself wishing she had never done so.

Becoming a girl, living among humans, meeting new people; it had been the most wonderful time of her life. And all that managed to do was make it that much more painful when it was taken from her. Yes, taken from her. She had never seen that as a choice she had made. It was either give over the pendant, and be condemned to a bird's body for the rest of her life, or lose all the respect she had gotten from everyone. Not to mention their lives.

That was no decision. That was a cruel trap, and she had fallen straight into it.

But she could never fully regret it. By handing over the pendant, she had also earned that much more respect, from Mytho, Rue, everyone. Such a 'selfless' act, they saw it as, and regarded her highly for it. Of course she never spoke to them of her true motivation to doing as much; how could she, in a duck's body? There was, however, the nagging feeling that she wouldn't have even if she could speak. Once again, she would have lost their affections if she had confessed to being as selfish as she was. To stay silent was to stay revered.

Turned out it didn't matter anyways.

Mytho and Rue had never returned to her little pond in Kinkan Town. The last she ever remembered of them was flying off in that odd little carriage pulled behind two swans. Endless hours, she had dreamed of their return, their happy embraces to see the little duck again. But dreams, in the end, were all useless. A dream could never bring the smile of the prince she had fought for back to her pond, nor could it bring back the embrace of his princess. Dreams were things that evaporated as quickly as they appeared, things that could never be shown to anyone, that could never be touched or made use of. She had long since stopped bothering with such extraneous things as dreams.

Behind her, a swan landed, graceful in everything it did. Her eyes, lacking all of the childish, joyful luster they once held, fixed on the white creature, watching it with a tinge of envy. She had never grown from the 'ugly duckling' into a beautiful swan. A duck she had remained all these years, and would remain until she died, which something inside her said wouldn't be too very long now.

Then the swan took off again, soaring into the distance, as if it were ashamed to be seen near something so tiny and insignificant as a duck, leaving her alone in her pond once more.

Just like _him_.

Fakir. Once upon a time, as the story would go, he had promised to stay by Ahiru's side, no matter what came to pass. Once upon a time, they had fought together, and won a happy ending for everyone out of the depths of tragedy. Once upon a time, he sat just over there, on that little jetty which had long begun to rot away, and together they had passed the time in companionable silence. Every day, just the two of them, enjoying the world they helped save.

Then he had begun to miss a day or two, skip out on an afternoon, or come late in the mornings. But she didn't worry – He probably had a life, and friends, and she couldn't expect him to always be there. There were still many hours in which he could revel in his presence, and enjoy being near him. Gradually, a missed afternoon a week became a missed day a week, then two. But still, she didn't worry, she didn't complain. As long as he still thought of her, she could still be happy. Two days a week became three, then before she knew it, he was gone. Day in and day out for the better part of a year, she had sat by the dock, waiting and watching for her knight to return. But he never did. Day in and day out, she let herself hope he would return to her, explain to her his absence, and renew his vow not to leave.

Then, one day, all the hoping just stopped. For lo and behold, along the quiet path near her pond, there came walking her glorious Fakir. And with him, hand in hand, the one who was once her dearest friend. Pique had won in the end, it would seem, and no battle was required. The two were holding hands, walking together, talking with glittering eyes and smiling faces. But even this was not enough to sway Ahiru's endless hope.

No, it took something more brutal for that. Others may see it as foolish, something stupid to get worked up or depressed about. But Ahiru was not one of them. She knew Fakir better than anyone, or so she had thought, spent more time with him, and knew everything about him.

Yet never had he laughed for her like he was for Pique.

The two of them were laughing together over something one had said, and Fakir's laugh rang loud in her mind. It was beautiful, purely joyous, and with that dark edge that was so like him. It was not the tentative chuckle he had offered her only once or twice. It was nothing so slight. For Pique, he laughed like he never had for Ahiru.

That was the last she had seen of him, and that image was long since forgotten. Perhaps her subconscious wanted desperately to forget it. But she couldn't escape that laugh, that sound that haunted her both waking and sleeping, that reminded her she had never been quite good enough. After seeing him, she had tried to cry, tried to let her anger and despair out in tears. But they wouldn't come. Maybe she was distraught beyond tears, maybe she had let go of him enough for it not to draw them forth. She never quite knew. Not that it mattered.

They were all gone, Drosselmeyer's little toys. They had all left to walk their own paths. All but the duck. The one who had fought so hard for everyone's happy ending won for herself the most tragic, and there she was stuck. For the rest of her days, she would float in this deserted pond, gaze at the rotting wood of the jetty and the grown-over space that was once the path. For the rest of her days, alone.

And why not? After all, when all was said and done, she was only a duck.

Only a useless duck.


End file.
